


Roses and Thorns

by Brumeier



Series: Flower Shop AU [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 19:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9251918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for Free For All prompt:Any, any,Serenity belongs to you, it shines in your eyesThe grasses are greener over thereI'm not surprisedInsanity destroys my life, it's a fever in my veinsSomehow I'm a prisoner of myself, burnin' out again("Insanity" by 666)In which Steve and Bucky still have some issues to resolve if they're going to move their relationship forward.





	

Moonlight puddled on the bedsheets, and washed out the color in the room. Steve had one leg on top of the sheets, one arm under the pillow, and his eyes on Bucky. He couldn’t help the resentment that burned just under his skin. 

Bucky padded around the room on silent feet, his movements practiced as he pulled his pants up, leaving them unzipped. Did he really think Steve slept through him leaving every time? Did he think it was easy for Steve to wake up to an empty bed?

As always, Bucky hesitated, one hand on the door. But he never turned around; maybe he could feel Steve’s eyes on him.

Another minute, and Steve could hear the quiet _snick_ of the front door closing. He punched the pillow, the one Bucky’d had his head on just ten minutes ago. It was always the same: kissing led to touching, touching led to fucking, and after it was all said and done Bucky was gone.

He never spent the night.

Steve knew Bucky had his reasons, that it probably wasn’t a reflection on his feelings for Steve. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

*o*o*o*

The work table was littered with roses. Steve ran the thorn stripper down another stem, taking off thorns and leaves in one swipe. He was still frustrated, but working with the flowers helped to center him. In a way, the roses reminded him of Bucky. Beautiful but prickly, and apt to draw blood if a person wasn’t careful.

Steve was willing to admit that he’d been naïve in thinking that finally getting intimate with Bucky would change things. As if Bucky’s anxieties would vanish because Steve was so good at taking his cock. There was something missing, some _thing_ between them like an invisible wall that no amount of physical intimacy could breach.

The intercom squawked to life. _Steve?_

Steve pulled off the heavy work glove he wore and pressed the response button. “What’s up, Shirley?”

_I’m going to grab some lunch. You want me to bring you back something?_

“No thanks. I’m brown-bagging it today.”

_I'll be back in thirty._

“Have a good lunch.” Steve knew Shirley would leave the intercom on, so that he’d hear if someone came into the shop and needed help.

While he worked, he looked at the sketches that were taped up on the wall. Steve always had an aptitude for art. As a kid he’d draw on any piece of paper he could find, be it notepaper, sketch paper, and even the backs of receipts. Now he kept a pad of art paper in the shop, to work out ideas for new arrangements, and another in his apartment, to sketch whatever random things had caught his eye during the day.

He had a lot of sketches of Bucky.

Steve sighed and had to refrain from throwing the thorn stripper across the room. He couldn’t get Bucky off his mind.

Or out of his shop.

Through the intercom the bell on the front door jingled, and Bucky called out, “Hey, punk!”

Steve debated locking the door and ignoring Bucky, but now he’d become the rose, unable to keep from turning towards the sunlight.

“In the back!”

Moments later the door opened up and Bucky slipped in. “Hey. You busy?”

Steve just sighed and stripped another rose, which Bucky took as a no. He dropped down on the stool on the other side of the counter.

“So. I signed up for some college classes.”

That gave Steve pause. “What?”

“I can’t just sit around all day, watching you play with flowers and collecting disability. I need to _do_ something.”

How had Steve not known his friend felt that way? Bucky had joined the Army right after high school, and Steve had just assumed that they’d train Bucky in some sort of useful skill, and once he got out he’d keep on doing whatever that was. Bucky had pulled good grades all through school, but he’d never once mentioned an interest in going to college.

“I can keep up with the work,” he said defensively.

“Yeah, I know that,” Steve replied. “What kind of classes?”

Bucky shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Bunch of different things, till I figure out what I’m good at.”

“You always liked science.”

“Remember that science fair?” Bucky asked with a grin. “Ms. Vogel almost lost her eyebrows.”

Steve couldn’t drum up any matching amusement. He knew it was petty, and unfair, but he was angry. Angry at Bucky for going after what he wanted and not caring about Steve, or what Steve wanted.

“Hey, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” Steve said. He stripped another rose with more force than was necessary, mangling it.

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Bucky scowled. “Well, fuck you!”

Steve slapped the thorn stripper on the counter. “Of course you can do it! You can do any damn thing you want to!”

“Then why the fucking attitude? I thought you’d be more excited.”

“I’m excited, okay? I’m ecstatic. Go to school, find a thing, be successful. Whatever.” Steve lifted the bucket of roses and carried it back to the cooler.

It was just like Bucky. He’d be leaving again, Steve could feel it. Spending all his time at school, making new friends. Maybe getting himself a career that would take him out of New York, the same way the Army did. Steve was content staying in the city, working at the flower shop. But Bucky had always wanted more.

He should’ve known things with Bucky were only temporary. 

Steve turned around to find Bucky filling the doorway. His eyes were narrowed and his arms were crossed. 

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Why don’t you ever stay?” Steve blurted out, and instantly regretted it. He turned back to the shelves, futzing with the flowers.

“It’s just a few classes,” Bucky said. 

“I don’t mean that.”

“Then what?”

Steve rested his forehead on the shelf and sighed. “You never stay. The nights we…you know.”

“You’re mad because I don’t sleep over? That’s stupid.”

Steve whirled around and pushed Bucky, both hands on his chest, and Bucky stumbled back a step. “It’s not stupid! It’s not stupid to want to wake up and have you still there the next morning, instead of sneaking out like some one night stand!”

“You know why,” Bucky said, his expression hardening.

“No I don’t.” Steve pushed past Bucky back into the workroom. “Why is it okay for you to deal with my stupid health stuff, but I can’t do the same for you? You think you’re gonna scare me away?”

“I don’t want you to be part of that life,” Bucky said, his voice sounding rough. 

Steve felt a prick of guilt, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from saying what he needed to say. “I want to be part of everything with you, Buck. The good stuff, and the bad. You can trust me.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Bucky was already out the door. A few seconds later he heard the bell over the front door _ding_. He dropped down onto the stool Bucky had been using and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Shit.”

*o*o*o*

Steve was startled awake when his mattress dipped down. Someone was in his room!

“It’s just me,” Bucky whispered.

He stood out in stark relief thanks to the slant of moonlight through the window, bare-chested and obviously anxious. Steve’s sleep-muddled brain took a few minutes to sort out what was happening.

“What are you doing here?”

“I want it too,” Bucky said. “To be all in with you. But…it’s like, when I look at you, you’re just always so…calm. And happy. Serene, maybe. And inside my head things are so fucked up. I don’t want to drag you down.”

Steve moved, straddling Bucky and holding his face carefully between his hands. “You won’t. And maybe I can help lift you up. You ever think of that?”

Bucky shook his head, and his eyes were gleaming with tears, so Steve kissed him, kissed him hard and long and with everything he had so that maybe he could make Bucky understand.

When Steve moved back, breaking the kiss, Bucky was panting and hard, and Steve couldn’t help feeling a stir of need in response.

“Till the end of the line, remember?” Steve murmured. He pressed kisses to Bucky’s forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Bucky nodded, but Steve knew he still wasn’t convinced that staying the night wasn’t a horrible idea. He was there, though, and that meant Steve had the chance to show him that it would be okay, that he was up to the challenge of helping Bucky fight the demons that had taken up residence in his head.

“Can you do something for me?” Steve asked.

Bucky eyed him warily. “What?”

“Tire me out enough to get back to sleep.” Steve ground his hips against Bucky’s, and Bucky growled, capturing Steve’s mouth in a fierce kiss.

They fucked, slow and deliberate, and when the rosy fingers of dawn moved across the rumpled bedsheets, Bucky was still there, wrapped around Steve like he’d never let go.


End file.
